


Strip Swedish Lessons

by chronocides



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 13:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronocides/pseuds/chronocides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff's always wanted to learn Swedish. Luckily, his road roommate has a plan to make it interesting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strip Swedish Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to thesamefire, shihadchick, and justbreathe80 for beta/audiencing. ♥
> 
> All remaining mistakes are mine. Pardon my Swedish, I got it all from the internet.
> 
> This is set during their time in Kitchener, so they're roughly 17-18. Humor me and pretend that the Rangers made it all the way to the Memorial Cup Finals in 2010, so JSkins can turn 18 while they're still playing.

Gabe is surprised to see Jeff lying on his bed when he gets out of the bathroom. He throws his towel over the back of a chair and reaches for the sweatpants and shirt he has laid out at the foot of his bed. 

“Staying in tonight, eh?” Gabe asks. Jeff looks up from his book and grins. 

“Thought I’d keep your underage ass company,” Jeff replies. 

“I’m not the one who’ll still get carded in his thirties,” Gabe says, dropping down onto his bed and making himself comfortable. He reaches for the remote on the bedside table and starts flipping through the channels. He finally settles on some B-movie--it looks like a typical action movie, and Gabe settles in to watch. A car explodes on-screen and Gabe thumbs down the volume, glancing over at Jeff, who’s still on his stomach, his nose buried in his book. 

Gabe turns his attention back to the TV. The movie’s villain is Swedish. “Why couldn’t they have just made him Russian like every other bad action film?” Gabe says. 

“Jag ska döda dig!” the movie’s villain shouts. Gabe snorts. Jeff glances over at him, giving him a weird look. It’s a torture scene, so Gabe can understand why Jeff might be weirded out by his amusement. 

“What’s so funny?” Jeff asks. 

“The villain,” Gabe says, gesturing to the TV. “He’s supposed to be Swedish, but his Swedish is atrocious.” 

“Yeah?” Jeff asks. 

“See, he’s trying to say _Jag ska döda dig_ ,” Gabe says. “But it sounded more like ‘I’ll lick your elbow.’” Jeff laughs at that, getting the joke. 

“What should he have said?” Jeff asks, shifting so he can look at Gabe better. He marks his place in his book with his thumb. 

“Jag ska döda dig,” Gabe says. 

“Jag ska döda dig?” Jeff says, but he says it so carefully that it just sets Gabe off again. Jeff rolls his eyes and leaps over the narrow space between their beds. He repeats it, making his voice lower, making it sound like he means it. It’s undercut by the way he keeps trying to tickle Gabe.

“It’s like being attacked by a kitten,” Gabe says playfully, trying to grab Jeff’s forearms. Jeff ends up sitting on Gabe, his knees on either side of Gabe’s hips. Gabe’s got one of Jeff’s wrists in a firm grip, and he’s got feathers in his mouth from when Jeff hit him with a pillow. 

“Jag ska döda dig,” Jeff says again, his voice low and breathless, and Gabe doesn’t know if it’s because he hasn’t jerked off today or because Jeff’s practically straddling him, but... he’s into it. 

Well, fuck.

Gabe keeps smiling, hoping his face doesn’t betray his train of thought. He knows of other guys in the league who have arrangements with their roommates or teammates. He and Jeff are buds, but they don’t help each other out like _that_. Gabe wouldn’t mind though, if Jeff needed a helping hand once in a while. 

Jeff gets up and goes back to his own bed. Gabe tugs his clothes back into place and tries to stuff the feathers back into his pillow. 

“I’ve always wanted to learn Swedish,” Jeff says suddenly.

“Really?” Gabe asks, surprised. Jeff nods shyly. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” 

“I’m saying so now,” Jeff says. 

“Well, I can teach you a few things,” Gabe says. 

Jeff grins, his dimple showing. “I was hoping you’d say that.” 

“I don’t want to be, like, a boring teacher though,” Gabe says. 

“Too late,” Jeff says, mock-sorrowfully. “Your whole life’s pretty boring.” 

“Nice chirp, Skins,” Gabe says. He sits up in bed. “How about we up the stakes?”

Jeff squints at him. “The stakes for... learning Swedish?” 

“Yeah!” Gabe bounds over to the mini-bar. “People always learn faster when they’re more invested in something, right?” 

“I guess?” Jeff asks. He looks doubtful, but he’s still smiling, so Gabe’s guessing Jeff’s gonna go along with whatever hare-brained scheme Gabe’s thought up.

The mini-bar’s pretty empty, though it’s even noteworthy that their room has a mini-bar at all. There are only a couple of teeny-tiny bottles of vodka that look even smaller in Gabe’s hand. He walks over to Jeff’s bed and drops them onto the duvet. Jeff looks up at him, one eyebrow raised. 

“Stop giving me that look, Skins,” Gabe says. 

“If I’d wanted to drink, I would’ve gone out with the guys tonight,” Jeff says. 

Gabe rolls his eyes. He sits down on Jeff’s bed and twists open one of the bottles. 

“Here’s what we’ll do,” he says. “I’ll say something, and if you mispronounce it, you have to drink.”

“What, are you only gonna teach me two words?” Jeff asks, looking at the bottles. 

“I’ll think of something else when we run out of alcohol,” Gabe says, nudging him. “Okay, let’s start. What do you want to learn?” 

“I dunno,” Jeff says, shrugging. “How about like... how to say hello, and stuff?”

“Okay,” Gabe says. “Hej. That’s hello. Or hi. Just your basic greeting.” 

“Hej,” Jeff says dutifully. 

“Pretty good,” Gabe says. “Now try this one. God mórgon.” 

“God mórgon,” Jeff repeats. He mispronounces the last syllable, and Gabe grins, offering him the bottle. 

“Let me try again,” Jeff says. Gabe shakes his head. Jeff sticks his tongue out at him before taking a shot. It drains half the bottle. Gabe’s starting to see Jeff’s point. 

“Okay, now you can try again,” Gabe says. He repeats the phrase, and this time Jeff gets it perfectly. Gabe holds up his hand for a high-five, and Jeff grins as he slaps his hand into Gabe’s. 

“Jag heter Gabe,” Gabe says, gesturing to himself. 

“Is that ‘my name is Gabe’?” Jeff asks. Gabe nods. 

“Jag heter Jeff,” Jeff says, mirroring Gabe’s earlier gesture as well. “Come on, Landeskog, gimme something a little harder.” 

“Det är vad hon sade,” Gabe says, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously at Jeff. 

Jeff laughs. “Please don’t tell me that was ‘that’s what she said’ in Swedish.”

Gabe shrugs. “You wanted something a little harder,” he says. Jeff rolls his eyes and nudges Gabe with his foot. 

“Say it again,” he orders Gabe. 

Gabe repeats it, going slowly so Jeff can catch the syllables. Jeff repeats it back to him, but he kind of swallows the last syllable. Jeff gives him a long-suffering look as he reaches for one of the bottles. 

“Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea,” Jeff says. 

Gabe’s mouth drops open. “Jeffrey!” he says, mock-outraged. “Are you doubting my skills as a teacher?” 

“Those aren’t the only skills of yours that I’m doubting,” Jeff says. 

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Gabe says. “Don’t tell me you’re drunk off a dinky bottle of cheap hotel vodka, Skinner.” 

Jeff shakes his head, but he’s giggling. Gabe rolls his eyes and Jeff sticks his tongue out at him, still giggly.

“Okay,” Gabe says. “Uh, let’s try... talar du engelska.” 

“Talar du engelska,” Jeff says. 

“That’s ‘do you speak English?’,” Gabe says. 

“Okay,” Jeff says. “And how would I respond to that?” 

“Ja, jag talar engelska,” Gabe says.

Jeff gets through the first three words well enough, but somehow manages to mispronounce _engelska_ , despite saying it perfectly only a few minutes before. Jeff twists the top off of the second bottle and lifts it to his lips. 

When he puts the bottle down a few seconds later, it’s practically empty. 

“Are you trying to tell me something, Skinner?” Gabe says. “Are you done with Swedish for tonight?” 

“Those are really tiny bottles,” Jeff says, looking betrayed. Gabe laughs. 

“Now I’m gonna have to think of something else,” he says. Jeff leans back against his pillows. His shirt’s still a little rucked up from when they tussled earlier, and it gives Gabe an idea. 

“How about we do this,” Gabe says. “If you get something wrong, you take a piece of clothing off--”

“And if I get it right,” Jeff interrupts. “ _You’ll_ take something off.” 

His voice has gone all low again, and he’s grinning at Gabe, looking a little smug, like he just got a dirty goal past a tough goalie. Gabe’s eyes go wide in surprise, but he nods. He holds his hand out to Jeff and they shake on it. 

“Teach me something _useful_ ,” Jeff commands, nudging Gabe with his foot. 

“Basic greetings are totally useful,” Gabe counters, reaching down so he can grab Jeff’s ankle. Jeff makes a face but doesn’t kick Gabe’s hand away.

“I can get that from any phrasebook,” Jeff complains. “Teach me something like... I dunno, Swedish pick-up lines or something.” 

“Pick-up lines huh?” Gabe says. “I didn’t know you were into Swedish chicks, Skins.” 

Jeff shrugs. “I’m into Swedes,” he says. He probably means it as a joke, but it comes out oddly serious. 

Gabe can’t quite believe Jeff just said that. There’s a weirdly charged moment where they’re both kind of looking at each other, and then Jeff says, “Swedish things. Just, Swedish things in general.” 

“Let me guess,” Gabe says. “Like Ikea.” 

“Meatballs,” Jeff says. 

“Dude,” Gabe says, punching him in the shoulder. “You should totally come over when my mom’s in town. She makes the best Swedish meatballs.” 

Jeff just grins at him. It makes something in Gabe’s stomach flip over, so he looks away.

“Um, okay, let me think,” Gabe says. “Uh, try this one-- tjena kexet, står du här å smular?”

“What the fuck,” Jeff says. “Say it slower.” 

Gabe sounds it out for him, and Jeff manages to get through it. 

“What does that mean?” Jeff asks. He repeats the phrase, getting more confident with each repetition. 

“Hey cracker, why are you standing there crumbling?” Gabe says, with the straightest face he can. 

“No way,” Jeff says, cracking up. “Please don’t tell me you’ve actually used that line.” 

Gabe shrugs. He’s about to launch into a story of that one time Magnus totally scored with a hot waitress by using that line, but Jeff wasn’t finished talking, apparently.

“What am I saying,” Jeff continues jokingly. “You’ve probably never needed to use a pick-up line in your life.”

Gabe blinks at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he says, smacking Jeff in the leg. Jeff kicks at him, still smiling. His cheeks are turning pink. It’s a good look on him. 

Jeff makes a face. “I mean, look at you,” he says, making a random flappy hand gesture. 

Gabe raises an eyebrow at him. “What are you trying to say, Skins?” he asks. “Are you saying I’m too hot to have to use pick-up lines?” He waggles his eyebrows at Jeff, to project that he’s kidding. Jeff blushes, biting his lip.

“Shut up and take your shirt off already,” Jeff says, kicking him again. 

“Oh Jeff,” Gabe says. “I don’t know what gave you that idea, but I am not that kind of girl.” Jeff rolls his eyes.

Gabe pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth movement, and he might just be imagining it, but it sounds like Jeff catches his breath when he drops his shirt over the side of the bed. 

“Är det varmt här, eller är det bara du?” Gabe asks, waggling his eyebrows again. “That’s ‘is it hot in here, or is it just you?’”

Jeff rolls his eyes, but starts confidently enough. “Är det varmt här eller...” he says, then stops, biting his lip. “Uh... är det bara du?” 

He looks triumphantly at Gabe right after he finishes, and Gabe grins as he lifts his hips up so he can slide his sweatpants off his hips. 

“You’re doing pretty well, young Padawan,” Gabe says. Jeff, if it was even possible, turns even redder, but he snorts at Gabe’s words. 

Gabe knows he should feel pretty weird, sitting on his roommate’s bed in only his boxers, but they change together all the time, and he’s seen Jeff in his underwear before, on that one road trip where the air conditioning in the hotel had been horrible, and they’d been forced to crack open the window and strip down to their boxers for the rooms to feel only halfway stifling. 

There’s something weirdly hot about being almost naked while Jeff’s still fully-dressed. Gabe shifts around--he kind of wants to pull a pillow onto his lap, but that probably might make it more obvious. He just hopes that Jeff won’t notice that he’s kind of turned on by all of this. Whatever _this_ was. He’s never gonna hear the end of it, if this whole strip Swedish lessons thing comes out. 

“Come on, keep ‘em coming,” Jeff says, bouncing a little on the bed. Gabe racks his brain for the more ridiculous pick-up lines he’s heard of. He laughs suddenly, remembering something.

“What’s so funny?” Jeff says.

“This one’s kind of ridiculous, but I know people who use this and, like, score,” Gabe says. “It means, ‘Okay, I’m here. What were your other two wishes?’”

Jeff laughs so hard he has to turn his face into his pillow. “That actually works? No way.” 

“Yes way,” Gabe insists. “Now repeat after me: Nu är jag här! Vad var dina andra två önskingar?” 

“Nu är jag här,” Jeff says obediently, then stops. “Okay, say the second part again.” 

Gabe shakes his head. Jeff’s mouth drops open. “Come on, Gabe,” he wheedles, reaching out so he can shake Gabe’s bare shoulder. “Why won’t you say it again?” 

“I think you’re getting an unfair advantage,” Gabe says jokingly, crossing his arms over his chest. Jeff’s hand slips from his shoulder to his bicep. “Plus, do you really want a naked guy giving you Swedish lessons?” 

Jeff pouts. Gabe knows Jeff is older than him and all, but it’s pretty fucking adorable all the same. “Vad var dina andra... okay, I got nothing.” 

Gabe’s face breaks out into a grin. Jeff punches him in the shoulder and pulls his shirt over his head. 

“Okay, I’ll say it again. Vad var dina andra två önskingar?” Gabe says, sounding out each Swedish syllable. 

“Vad var dina andra två önskingar?” Jeff says, completely mispronouncing the last word. Gabe shakes his head. 

“Well, fuck me,” Jeff says, and shifts so he can pull his sweatpants off. His legs are strong and muscular, and Gabe’s mouth is suddenly all dry. 

He licks his lips, and says, unthinkingly, “Snygga ben.. när öppnar dom?”

“Snygga ben.. när öppnar dom?” Jeff says quickly, as if he’s trying to get the words out before he forgets them. His grin lights up his whole face and he sticks his hands up in the air like he just scored a game-winning goal in double overtime. “Okay, now tell me what that means.”

Gabe feels his face heat up. “Um, it means, ‘Nice legs... when do they open?’” 

Gabe wonders if Jeff knows it was a mistake, that he didn’t mean to just blurt it out. He bets it’s written all over his face. 

“Nice,” Jeff says. He brings his hands down and sticks them behind his head. “Come on, Landeskog,” he says, trying for smooth but coming off kind of shy instead. “Take it all off.” 

What he just said seems to hit him all of a sudden, because a blush starts spreading down his neck. “Or um, or don’t. Like, whatever you want, dude.” His eyes are worried when they meet Gabe’s, like he thinks their game has gone too far. 

Gabe gets up from the bed, and there’s a split-second where disappointment colors Jeff’s face, but then Gabe hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and pulls them down. 

“Holy shit,” Jeff says faintly. 

Gabe expects things to get weird and completely awkward any second now. He wonders if he’ll have to switch roommates, if he and Jeff can even be on the same line again, or if Jeff will never be able to look at him again without thinking of tonight. 

The thought’s almost too much. Gabe keeps his breathing steady, trying not to feel horribly self-conscious. To distract himself, he moves his eyes over Jeff’s body instead. There’s a trail of hair on Jeff’s stomach that disappears into the waistband of his boxers, and Gabe is suddenly seized with a mad impulse to pepper that line of hair with bites and kisses. He licks his lips, unconsciously.

He might never get to find out how Jeff’s skin tastes, and that’s what gives him the courage to move forward and sit back down on the bed, closer to Jeff than he was before. 

Eyes never leaving Jeff’s, he leans forward and says, “Jag slår vad om att du inte vågar pussa mig.”

He closes his eyes, feeling the skin of Jeff’s cheek against his lips. He braces himself for what comes next, but he wasn’t expecting Jeff to say, slowly and carefully, “Jag slår vad om att du inte vågar pussa mig.” He can feel and see Jeff swallow reflexively before asking, “And what does that mean?”

Gabe pulls back so he can look Jeff in the eye. “I bet that you don’t dare kiss me,” Gabe says.

Jeff’s biting at his bottom lip, and it looks lush and red in the dim hotel lamplight. In the split-second it takes for Gabe to blink, Jeff gets a hand on the back of Gabe’s neck and tugs him close enough to kiss. Gabe can feel Jeff smiling into it, and god, it’s enough to get him hard. 

The hands roaming all over his back and chest help too. Gabe moves up the bed so he can kind of drape himself over Jeff, who still has his boxers on. Gabe runs his hands down Jeff’s sides and slips them under the waistband of his underwear. He wraps a hand around Jeff’s dick, which is getting hard gratifyingly fast. He gives Jeff’s dick a couple of pulls. It’s a little too dry to be comfortable, but Jeff seems pretty into it. 

Gabe moves his lips from Jeff’s mouth to Jeff’s neck, licking and biting and kissing down his throat to his chest. Jeff gets his hands in Gabe’s hair, short as it is, and pulls him up to kiss him again, licking into his mouth and biting at his bottom lip. Gabe tugs at Jeff’s underwear, and Jeff lifts his hips up so Gabe can pull them off. Gabe pulls back to look at Jeff, spread out on his bed, his lips swollen and his pupils wide with arousal. He’s hard, his dick curving a little to the right, its head shiny with precome. It’s leaving wet marks on the hair below his navel. It makes Gabe’s mouth water just to look at it. 

He licks his lips and glances up at Jeff. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, in a rush, before fitting himself in between Jeff’s legs and taking Jeff’s dick in his mouth. Jeff gasps and his hips jerk up, driving his cock even more into Gabe’s mouth. Gabe coughs and pulls off, thumbing at the tears in his eyes. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Jeff says, sitting up and taking Gabe’s face in his hands. “I wasn’t expecting you to just uh... go for it, you know?” 

Gabe grins at him, and Jeff smiles back. He scoots forward so he’s practically in Gabe’s lap, their dicks flush against one another. Jeff kisses him, his hips moving almost unconsciously against Gabe’s, looking for friction. Gabe gets a hand between them and starts jerking Jeff off, gathering the spit and precome on the head and working it over Jeff’s dick. He tightens his grip when Jeff moans against his mouth, his hips driving his dick even more into the circle of Gabe’s fingers. 

Gabe feels like he’s going to fall over any second, so he shifts, slinging one of Jeff’s legs up over his hip so he can get a better grip on Jeff. Jeff gasps against his lips when Gabe plays with his balls. He bends down to kiss and bite along Gabe’s shoulder as he works a hand between them to start jerking Gabe off. 

“Fuck,” Gabe says. Jeff looks up at him as he brings his hand to his mouth and gets it wet before wrapping it again around Gabe’s erection. Gabe groans, and Jeff jerks him harder, thumbing at the head. “Fuck, Jeff.” 

Jeff starts moving his wrist even faster, biting his lip. The rhythm of Gabe’s hand on Jeff’s dick stutters, and he has to let go so he can brace himself against the mattress, fisting his hands in the sheet. He doesn’t even try to stay quiet when he comes, spilling all over Jeff’s hand and getting some on Jeff’s leg and stomach. Jeff keeps stroking Gabe through his orgasm, maneuvering on the bed so his dick’s pressed up against Gabe’s and he can get his hand around both of them. It’s almost too much, but Gabe’s so, so into it. He gets a hand on the nape of Jeff’s neck and pulls him close, kissing and licking at his mouth, and he reaches down to help Jeff. He runs his thumb over the slit of Jeff’s dick and turns his face into Jeff’s neck as their hands move faster and faster. 

“Du är så het just nu,” Gabe says, muttering the words in Jeff’s ear, and that’s all it takes-- Jeff gives a shout and spills hot and wet between their hands, making everything even slicker. Gabe moves them so they’re lying on their sides, and with one hand, reaches for Jeff’s dick again, giving it a couple of lazy pulls. Jeff makes a keening sound at that, and Gabe grins as he grabs for Jeff’s wrist with his free hand and brings it to his lips, licking off all the cum on it, cleaning Jeff up with his tongue. 

“Oh god,” Jeff says, his voice low and hoarse. “Fuck, Gabe, you--” 

Gabe grins and curls his tongue around two of Jeff’s fingers before pulling Jeff’s hand out of his mouth with an obscene popping noise. Jeff makes a noise in the back of his throat, and Gabe leans over him so they can kiss, Jeff’s arms twining around his neck and pulling him even closer. 

When Gabe pulls back, Jeff’s all pink and his hair’s a total mess. His mouth is slick and swollen, and Gabe’s never seen anything hotter in his life. He reaches up with one hand to trace Jeff’s bottom lip with his thumb, and Jeff sucks it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving Gabe. 

“Hey Skins,” Gabe says. “Wanna see if we can have sex in the shower?” 

Jeff rolls his eyes. “That’s the language of love right there,” he says dryly, sitting up and letting Gabe tug him towards the bathroom. 

 

///

When Gabe wakes up the next day, it’s in his own bed. He and Jeff had ended up there after surveying the mess they’d made of Jeff’s, and they hadn’t done much more but make out after showering, their bodies still slightly damp and almost too warm when they’d curled into one another. 

Jeff’s nowhere to be found though, but Gabe can hear running water in the bathroom. There’s a sound of a faucet being turned off, then Jeff steps back into the bedroom, wearing just his boxers. Gabe stares at him, and Jeff flushes, shifting from foot to foot self-consciously. 

“Come here,” Gabe says, crooking his finger towards Jeff. Jeff smiles and jumps onto the bed, ending up in a position similar to the one that had gotten them into the events of last night. The material of Jeff’s boxers is scratchy against Gabe’s dick, and he makes a face, tugging at them. 

“We have to go down in thirty minutes,” Jeff says apologetically. “Gabe--” He lets out a sharp noise when Gabe gets a hand under his waistband to wrap around his dick. “Gabe. We have to get dressed.” 

Gabe wonders if this is Jeff’s way of brushing him off. He can feel Jeff getting hard under his hand, and then Jeff’s giving him a pointed look. He rolls off Gabe gracefully and moves towards his bag.

“Fine,” Gabe says. From the corner of his eye, Gabe can see Jeff’s head jerk up at Gabe’s tone, but Gabe ignores it, heading for the bathroom. 

So it was just the one night. Okay. It’s not like Gabe’s in love with Jeff or anything. 

He repeats it to himself in the shower. While he’s brushing his teeth. While he’s shaving. 

When he gets out of the bathroom, Jeff’s still in his boxers, and he’s sitting on Gabe’s bed. 

Before Gabe can say anything, Jeff smiles up at him and says, “Går du hit ofta?”

He draws the second word out a little too long, but his face is so hopeful.

Gabe’s face feels like it’s going to break in half, his grin’s so wide. “You said it wrong,” he says, walking over to Jeff. 

“I thought so,” Jeff says, and stands up so he can pull his boxers off. “Say it for me then.”

“Går du hit ofta,” Gabe says. He wishes he could sound suave and self-assured as he says it, but he thinks it comes out more gleeful than anything else. He pushes Jeff onto the bed and moves to lie on top of him, a leg in between Jeff’s thighs. 

“Ja,” Jeff says. “As often as you want me.” 

Gabe meets his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. Jeff doesn’t flinch or look away, and there’s nothing else Gabe wants to do but kiss him. 

So he does.

**Author's Note:**

> No, the words for "I'll kill you!" in Swedish do not rhyme with "I'll lick your elbow." I couldn't come up with a hilarious homonym for "I'll kill you", and for that, I apologize. 
> 
> Most of the Swedish pick-up lines in this story were culled from the internet. I am not responsible for anything that happens to you if you use them. Use them with caution.


End file.
